


can't get my mind out of those memories (what were they?)

by foxmulder_whereartthou



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fluff, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Shinjiro Is Alive I Can Do What I Want, Swearing, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, all of my fics end in gratuitous ryomina, seriously the bed thing has happened like 3 times now, speaking of which
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulder_whereartthou/pseuds/foxmulder_whereartthou
Summary: A take on what Ryoji was doing before he got his memories back, and what the others would do if they found out.hurt/comfort and ryomina!! this was very fun to write (as most things about them are)
Relationships: Aragaki Shinjiro/Sanada Akihiko, Arisato Minato/Mochizuki Ryoji, implied yukamitsu??? i suppose
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	can't get my mind out of those memories (what were they?)

In battle, it’s easy to forget the passage of time; so when the harsh green glow of the moon fades, and Akihiko feels his persona dissolve behind him, he quietly muses on how the Dark Hour feels more like a Dark Fifteen Minutes, sometimes, while tucking his brass knuckles into his pocket before anybody sees. It’s dark, and cold, and he wishes he’d brought his coat, since he’s already not at all excited for the trek back to the dorms. 

Trying to lose himself imagining what Shinji would have made by the time he gets back, Akihiko almost doesn’t notice a pair of long legs sticking over the side of a park bench. He’s about to walk by and pay no mind - it could be another Apathy victim, and he’s already sick of seeing people keel over in the streets during the  _ day,  _ let alone at night - when the wind picks up suddenly and an extremely familiar, bright yellow scarf floats into Akihiko’s field of vision.

Although the connection should’ve instantly been made, he stands there dumbly for a second, before sticking his head over the side of the bench.

“Mochizuki?”

Ryoji stirs, moving his arm from where it was resting over his eyes down to his chest, squinting up at Akihiko. “Sanada-san?”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and Akihiko strongly considers walking away, abandoning Ryoji and his shenanigans with him, but his better judgement and curiosity (and maybe a little of that mild concern he knows he has deep down) causes him to stay.

“Mochizuki, it’s freezing. What are you doing here?”

Fumbling with his scarf, trying to warm up his fingers, Ryoji replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; “I was asleep.”

Akihiko blinks. “Why are you asleep on a park bench when-”    
Just barely, he catches himself from letting anything about the Dark Hour slip.

“Why are you asleep on a park bench just after midnight?”

Awkwardly, Ryoji makes a move like he wants to stand up, but he can’t manage it with the way Akihiko looms over him. He twists his scarf in his hands nervously, opening and closing his mouth over and over again like he can’t find the right words to explain.

At the last second, Akihiko pulls back. “Get up.”

Dramatically, Ryoji lays a hand over his forehead, spouting; “But I’m  _ tired,  _ Sanada-san! How do you expect me to get up?”

Partly annoyed, partly legitimately bothered by finding Ryoji out here like this, Akihiko doesn’t hesitate in picking him up in one fell swoop, turning on his heel, and continuing his walk back towards the dorms. 

“Hey! What’re you-”

“You’re coming back to my dorm,” Akihiko tells him, in no uncertain terms. “Where do you  _ live,  _ Mochizuki?”

Once again, Ryoji’s demeanor changes abruptly, and he seems to become incredibly interested in the stitching on his sleeves. 

“Mochizuki,” Akihiko grumbles, furrowing his brow, “Did you get into a fight with your parents?”

He shifts uncomfortably in Akihiko’s arms. 

“No? I just,” he sighs - but not a sigh of someone who’s been caught out, but rather somebody who has no more corners to back into. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

_ Oh,  _ Akihiko thinks, foolishly.  _ Oh  _ **_shit._ **

“Wait, did you like, get kicked out or something?”

Ryoji laughs nervously, but it’s a sad, hollow sound. “No, I’ve just been- uh- wandering, since I got here, in- in Iwatodai. My memory’s a bit spotty, to be honest.”

Subconsciously, Akihiko picks up his pace of his (already quite brisk) walk back. 

“But you’ve been coming to school everyday, right? How didn’t you get picked up by the police, or anyone?”

“I visit the bridge a lot,” he murmurs, his breath visible in the air. “It’s easy to hide in crowds and if I thought I was being watched, I’d go down to the tunnels near the mall.”

Hearing this, Akihiko’s brain short-circuits. 

“The sewers??” he half-yells, and Ryoji looks apologetic, which just makes him feel worse.

“I’m sorry - look, you’re shivering. Be quiet and let’s get back quickly.”   
For once, Ryoji listens, and Akihiko is left with the stinging regret that he didn’t notice that Mochizuki has been living on the streets for weeks now, maybe longer. 

* * *

When he thinks about it, he wonders how Ryoji’s so clean. Akihiko’s only ever seen him wear one outfit.

But that’s not true, when he thinks about it, because in the first week Ryoji transferred in, he’d stumbled upon him, asleep in the Laundromat, his head resting on one of the machines. He’d been wearing this massive jacket Akihiko hadn’t seen since, and the more he thinks about it, the more Akihiko worries that the jacket wasn’t his. 

At the time, Akihiko hadn’t even thought it was weird Ryoji was asleep there - he understood it, for there was a certain kind of atmosphere that came with it. There was some old song playing over the crackly speakers, and Akihiko couldn’t help but remember being a kid, chasing Shinjiro through one of these places once. 

Clearly, he hadn’t understood in the right way.

* * *

Akihiko lets Ryoji down before they walk up to the dorm. It doesn’t take long to explain Ryoji’s situation, and in a matter of seconds Shinjiro’s rushing back into the kitchen, Junpei is running up the stairs to fetch Minato, and Mitsuru has quite firmly sat him down on the comfiest edge of the sofa.

“You fucking idiot,” Shinji growls, setting a bowl on the table. “You’re going to eat this, and you’re going to  _ enjoy  _ it. When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

His anger descends into mumbling swear words under his breath, all pretense of not being a caring, loving person dropped in favour of making sure Ryoji actually eats something.

It’s nice to see, Akihiko believes, but this thought is quickly interrupted by a shout and the sound of two people tumbling down at least three flights of stairs, and he turns around so fast he almost spins directly around. Minato lies on the floor, Junpei piled on top of him, both of them looking like their souls had just left their bodies, and he weakly raises a freshly-bruised arm to wave in Ryoji’s general direction. 

Nearly choking on his food, Ryoji flushes bright red and Akihiko swears he hears Yukari hiss something like ‘fucking hell’ under her breath. 

A while later, after Ryoji had thanked Shinjiro over and over again, and Junpei had recovered from his battle wounds, and all of them, even Mitsuru, had piled onto the couch where Ken was innocently trying to pretend he wasn’t absolutely engrossed in the rerun of Featherman playing, Minato offered to let Ryoji sleep in his room tonight.

He quickly leaves to go make sure his room is clean, and Ryoji turns to Shinjiro.

“I can just sleep down here-”

“No. It’s warmer up in the bedrooms, and I’m still worried that you’re going to freeze,” he interrupts, and stares fondly across the room to where Akihiko is discussing something with Fuuka. “I feel like Minato could use the company, anyway.”

Ryoji crumples his scarf in his lap.  _ “Okay,  _ but you should… you should know that I-”

In a completely deadpan tone, he says, “We know. We’re all gay for each other here. You get used to it.”

* * *

“I’m going to kill Junpei,” Minato croaks, burying his face in his hands, “He said he’d let me borrow the spare mattress in his room, but apparently not.”

“It’s okay! I can just-”

Minato stares him down. “Finish that sentence. I dare you.”

He doesn’t.

Fifteen minutes later, Minato is dragging a blanket with him on the floor and Ryoji’s borrowed some clean, comfy clothes and been shoved under the bedcovers, sinking into the dips of Minato’s bed. Shinjiro was right - he hasn’t been this comfortable in so long. As much as he tries to remember, Ryoji doesn’t think he’s ever been this comfortable, and Minato’s room feels so familiar; almost like a family home one comes back to after years of being away at school or on holiday.

Against his better judgement, Ryoji rolls onto his side and leans over the side of the bed. On the floor, Minato looks cold, and Ryoji tells him such.

“You look cold.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he replies, but instantly worries his tone sounds too harsh. “Sorry. Yeah.”

“It’s better up here,” Ryoji whispers, the words forbidden, almost. “There’s enough space for both of us.”

Minato sits up, considering his options. He coughs.

“Mind if I join you, then?”

“Yeah, um. Yeah.”

The silence between them after Minato clambers into bed is palpable, but in a sense that it’s a pillow they both latch onto. Ryoji doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to somebody else. Their arms brush and it’s so, so dark in here. Not like before.

Before he can mull over what ‘before’ means, Minato lurches forward and pulls him into a hug.

“You’re so stupid,” he murmurs, but through his drowsiness, Ryoji can tell his voice is strangled. “You’re lucky Akihiko found you, you should’ve told us - you should’ve told  _ me.” _

“I didn’t think,” Ryoji whispers back, and he really didn’t. It was normal, in a strange, indescribable way, and he never questioned where his parents are, where he lived, all the normal things people think about.

“We’re best friends, right? You can tell me anything,” Minato continues, drifting off with his head nestled in place of his scarf and Ryoji feels his heart shrivel, because he’s in love, he’s in love, he’s-

“I’m in love with you,” Ryoji sighs, and he’s so tired too, now, melting into Minato’s embrace.

“Mm,” Minato replies, muffled, half-asleep, “Love you too.”

The warm feeling Ryoji gets from that night doesn’t go away until the next time he wanders to the bridge, the sky burning a bright green, and all the gaps in his memory are filled in the worst possible way.

**Author's Note:**

> fhjdkfbhre aa its finally done!! hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> thanks for reading, lov u all <333


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